


it's too hot for this

by idleteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Shameless Smut, basically it's really hot this week and somehow this came as a result of that, plotless smut, ziall smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleteen/pseuds/idleteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn groaned, reminding himself how hot and bothered Niall always got when it’s that fucking humid. It started off with him being all touchy and cuddly—the last thing Zayn wanted to do in the heat—and ended with him being horny and pleading...</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's too hot for this

**Author's Note:**

> the tags don't leave much to the imagination, basically plotless porn. tell me what you think ?

It was disgustingly hot in that apartment. Hot and _humid_ ; the kind of weather that made your skin sticky and your head swirl. The windows were open as a last ditch effort to cool the place down—along with three standing fans and the one on the ceiling—but it wasn’t doing any good. What they really needed was central air, which was a broken component of the old apartment building.

There was nothing Zayn or Niall could do about it though, much to their dismay. It was _at least_ five degrees warmer outside and neither of them was willing to take venture out on the odd chance that the sun might melt them into the sidewalk. Even when Zayn needed a cigarette Niall had allowed him to smoke it inside, even though that was one of the only rules the Irish boy ever enforced.

So, it was hot. It was _really fucking hot_ and all Zayn could do was try to stay perfectly still on the sofa and relish in the odd breeze that drifted past. If he averted his dark gaze from the wall across from him just slightly, he could see Niall; a pile of limbs in position to make snow angels. Zayn wasn’t entirely sure how the Irish boy ended up on the floor, shirtless, staring at the ceiling like he was out of it—he was just kind of there all of a sudden. So the older boy lazily watched Niall’s chest rise and fall and rise and fall until finally the silence was broken.

“Are you starin’ at me?” Niall asked indifferently, not moving a muscle besides the ones in his lips.

Zayn just grunted in response, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the sofa.

“How long we been sitting here, do you reckon?”

Zayn shrugged, his voice refusing to make an entrance—not when he was sweating just from sitting here.

A long pause ensued before, “It’s cooler on the floor, you know...Just a tip, in case you wanna join me.”

Zayn pried his eyes open at the tone in Niall’s voice—it was subtle, but it was there, he hadn’t missed it. “Is it?”

Niall nodded, “Why don’t you come find out yourself,” and he patted the spot of hardwood next to him like it was a fucking mattress in heaven.

Zayn shook his head and closed his eyes again, hoping his suspicions were wrong, “That’s alright.” And he heard Niall sigh, of course, and the quiet rustling that followed, but didn’t think too much about it. It was too hot to think. It was too hot to do anything.

The weight of the couch shifted slightly, forcing Zayn to move for the first time in what felt like hours, and he looked to see Niall laying next to him—his feet at the opposite arm rest, his head on Zayn’s thigh. He smirked, “I thought it was cooler on the floor?”

Niall looked up at him with unusually wide blue eyes, “Yeah, well...” And with a sigh, Zayn began running his fingers through the Irish boy’s hair, knowing this was what he was after. Niall was a creature of habit; he was predictable, and always did the same thing in order to get the same result. The whole ‘head on Zayn’s lap’ thing meant he wanted to be petted and scratched like some overenthusiastic kitten, which he could deal with because it was awfully cute. So Zayn ran his fingers through Niall’s blonde hair, scratching his scalp softly and pressing his thumb into his slightly sweaty forehead. It wasn’t long before the Irish boy was practically purring, nuzzling into the touch and closing his eyes.

Zayn followed suit, closing his eyes as well, continuing the petting of Niall’s hair until Niall’s hair was gone and suddenly the weight of the sofa shifted onto _him_. And, of course, Niall was on his lap all of a sudden, curling into Zayn and nuzzling his head into his neck.

Zayn groaned, reminding himself how hot and bothered Niall always got when it’s that fucking humid. It started off with him being all touchy and cuddly—the last thing Zayn wanted to do in the heat—and ended with him being horny and pleading.

“Niall,” Zayn groaned, pushing the boy away from his neck, “It’s too hot for this.”

Niall made a whiney sound and wrapped his arms around the raven-haired boy, leaning his ear against his chest, “’s not that bad.”

“It _is_ that bad,” Zayn retorted, trying again to gently push the Irish boy away. Niall was having none of it though, and leaned back to look at Zayn with big innocent blue eyes. He leaned in again to peck the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth, followed by the other corner, and finally a proper kiss on the lips. Zayn kissed back lazily, still finding it too hot, and kept his head against the sofa when Niall pulled away.

The Irish boy proceeded to press himself against Zayn, straddling his lap and wrapping his arms around him like a spider monkey, burying his face in his neck. Zayn hugged him back, of course, because even if it was hotter than hell—which it was—he couldn’t possibly deny his boyfriend that. He did make a complaining sound, however, and mutter “How can you be so goddamn affectionate when it’s this bloody hot in here?”.

Niall laughed and kissed Zayn’s earlobe before replying “’s not that bad.”

“It is, actually, you’re just insane.”

“Mm,” Niall grunted, grinding ever-so-subtly against the raven-haired boy’s lap.

He did it a second and a third time before Zayn caught on, shaking his head, “Nope. No. It’s hot.” He pushed Niall away as gently as he could until he was finally off of his lap and onto the neighbouring cushion.

Niall whined, “But Zayn, please? I’m so _fucking hard_.”

“How? Did you just sport a boner out of nowhere?” Zayn asked hotly.

The Irish boy pouted and shook his head, “Please, Zayn?”

“ _Please_ , what?”

Niall groaned again like he was in physical pain, “We don’t even have to have sex, just suck me off real quick?”

Zayn shook his head, prompting Niall to come up with another spark of brilliance, “Then let me rub one off on your leg or something? _Please_.”

“Have a quick wank in the bathroom,” Zayn suggested, closing his eyes again as little beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

Niall almost sounded like he was crying now, whimpering like Zayn had just smacked him. Zayn _hadn’t_ smacked him though, because he’d _never_ smacked him, so he simply kept his eyes closed.

Somewhere between that sound and Zayn’s thought, Niall had manoeuvred himself onto the ground and in-between his boyfriend’s knees. Zayn’s shorts were nearly down his legs when he opened his eyes, “What’re you doing?”

Niall just continued to work on getting Zayn’s shorts off, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers next. “Ni,” Zayn choked out weakly, trying to stop him but lacking the willpower.

Niall wouldn’t have listened to him anyway, it seemed, because his boxers were promptly pulled down as well, revealing his semi-hard cock. Big blue eyes stared at it with unintentional innocence and want. Zayn moaned shallowly just at that and even louder when Niall took his dick in his hand. He could feel himself hardening already, but then his boyfriend kissed the tip with soft pink lips, quickly proceeding to lick the same spot.

Niall wasn’t big on the foreplay today, apparently, because he nearly took Zayn all in at once, gagging as the tip hit the back of his throat. Little tears trickled from the corners of his eyes and it was all Zayn could do to be gentle when he wiped them away. But once Niall started to suck, hollowing out his cheeks and swallowing around his cock, Zayn couldn’t help but be less than gentle when he pulled on his hair. Niall moaned at that, having some hair-pulling kink, and the vibrations went straight to Zayn’s mind, causing his head to fall back and a surprisingly obscene sound to escape his lips.

“Niall,” he groaned, and he supposes the Irish boy took that as a warning, because he promptly pulled off.

Wiping the tears and wetness from his face with the back of his hand, he grinned up at Zayn, who was less than pleased. A soft kiss was placed to the tip of his dick once again before “Is it still too hot in here?”

“Niall,” Zayn growled, staring down at the pretty boy between his knees. Niall was all smiles and big eyes though, seeing nothing wrong with his actions; _Zayn was hard now too...now they’d_ have _to fuck._

Niall was quickly in his earlier position on Zayn’s lap, pressing his lips to his neck and rolling his hips more often than either of them could handle, really. The blue t-shirt Zayn was wearing was simply unnecessary fabric and was quickly discarded, leaving him completely naked and Niall’s boxers the only article of clothing between them. Niall bit gently at his boyfriend’s neck—never able to bite hard—and licked over the spot with little dabs of his tongue. Zayn moaned and ran his hands down the Irish boy’s backside, slipping them beneath his boxers and grabbing his bum, kneading the skin there. Pulling back briefly for Niall to suck on his fingers—which he did, rather eagerly—he quickly returned and slid a finger into his hole.

Niall gasped and leaned forward, burying his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder as he circled and curled his finger. When he had adjusted enough, and a second finger was slipped in, the Irish boy whimpered in pain and clutched onto Zayn’s bare hip, hiding his face in tan skin.

“Shh,” Zayn soothed him, rubbing the boy’s lower back with his unoccupied hand as he slowly scissored his fingers, stretching his tight hole. He was always amazed with just how tight Niall was; he always required extra attention when it came to prep.

When Zayn could comfortably fit three fingers inside of Niall, he figured he was ready, laying him back on the sofa and pulling his boxers all the way off. The Irish boy was sweaty and beautiful and pleading and it was all Zayn could do to kiss his forehead when he left to grab lube and a condom.

“Zayn,” Niall breathed desperately when he returned, “Mm fuck me, baby.”

Zayn breathed an unsteady laugh, gasping as he rolled the condom over his dick, “So fucking desperate, _shit_.” And he coated himself with a generous amount of lube before leaning back over Niall, kissing his lips and his neck and his collarbone.

“ _Zayn_ ,” the Irish boy squirmed, bucking his hips up into his boyfriend’s side, searching for friction of any sort, “ _Pleasepleaseplease_.”

“ _Please_ what?” the raven-haired boy teased, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up at Niall’s entrance, making just enough contact to be felt.

“Fuck me,” Niall nearly shouted, squeezing his eyes shut tight, “Fuck me hard, Zayn, make it hurt, j-just do _something_.”

“Okay,” Zayn muttered, removing his teeth from his boyfriend’s collarbone and pushing Niall’s legs up slightly. He set a sloppy kiss to the boy’s inner thigh before properly pushing his cock inside, a little bit at first, then all of it in one deep thrust. And Niall cried out at the feeling, stretching painfully around his boyfriend who was a sweaty mess above him. It hurt, and Zayn knew it hurt and set a messy kiss to his boyfriend’s lips to compensate for it.

“Shh,” he murmured again, trying his very hardest not to move when everything in his body was telling him to _movefuckingmove_.

Niall nodded fervently, his eyes still closed tight, a couple lines of sweat running down his face. Yeah, it was fucking hot, but somehow Zayn managed to take Niall’s cue “ _move_ ” to heart, slamming in roughly _once, twice_ before setting a more even pace. He rocked his hips expertly, causing obscene moans to escape his boyfriend’s lips along with a hundred cuss words Zayn didn’t know existed.

Zayn’s thrusts got harder and he changed his angle just enough to hit that spot in Niall. The one that made him scream and, when he found it, _sure enough_ , Niall _screamed_.

“Fuck, Zayn,” he sobbed when Zayn hit his prostate again, feeling himself build up. His cock was throbbing; red and swollen and leaking precome and just _shit_ , he really needed to come.

“That good, baby?” Zayn managed to choke out. He was never the vocal one—Niall always stole the show when it came to screaming and waking up the neighbours. But Zayn spoke because Niall liked to talk during sex, and he loved the sound of his thick Irish accent being so fucking _recked_. Loved the way Niall gasped between words, swearing on every other syllable and gritting his teeth.

“So good,” Niall whimpered, running the stubs of his nails down Zayn’s back, digging deep into the skin, undoubtedly leaving marks. It wouldn’t be the first time. Niall was loud and had a tendency to bite and scratch marks into Zayn that gave their friends clues about what they had been doing in their spare time. Zayn left similar marks on Niall, but his were more precise, more _defined_ , and better hidden beneath his shirt. Niall’s were accidental.

Zayn pounded harder and harder into Niall as he felt his orgasm building, getting sloppier and sloppier as the minutes progressed. The boy beneath him was sweaty and so fucking beautiful as he moaned, “Mm, shit, Zayn, ‘m close.”

“Mm,” Zayn grunted, trying to keep his body propped up as his muscles weakened, tightening his grip on the arm rest with his one hand. “Come for me, baby.” And he stroked Niall’s dick _once, twice_ before the Irish boy hit his high, coming all over Zayn’s hand and chest.

Zayn continued to stroke Niall as his thrusts lost their rhythm, despite the boy’s whimpering. He felt himself build up until his body couldn’t handle anymore and he came inside of Niall, riding out his orgasm until he was positively spent. His muscles failed him then, and he was lying on top of his boyfriend’s chest, breathing heavily and sweating and _holy shit_.

It was hot and sticky when Zayn finally pulled out of Niall, causing a tiny whimper to flutter from pink lips from the loss. He stared down at the Irish boy, taking in his swollen and bruised lips, the forming marks on his neck and collarbone, and the way his blonde hair was matted to his sweaty forehead.

“So pretty,” he murmured, watching a lazy smile form on Niall’s lips.

“Is it still too hot in here?” the Irish boy repeated in a recked voice, raising an eyebrow.

Zayn rolled his eyes, “It’s hotter than hell...but I guess it’s not _that_ bad. I’d still like to take a cold shower—not sure why I didn’t think ‘bout that before.”

And Niall laughed because he could laugh at anything, “’m glad you didn’t.”


End file.
